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Dream, Part I

February 2, 2009 Leave a comment Go to comments

I’m on the run. From the cops, from the white coats, and maybe even from my father. What did I do to deserve this? Sure, I scammed a few people and stole their money, but how does this make me crazy? And where does my father fit into this? Perhaps I should start from the beginning.

About a week ago I woke up not remember much about my life. I knew my last name was Ibagnale, but didn’t know my first. I was in some sort of trouble, and I had to get out of my home, fast. I decided to backpack across the country.

I packed a few necessary things, but mostly just left with my money and credit cards. I left my car and everything else at home. Turns out, I left at just the right time. As I was leaving my house and rounding the corner into the woods, I saw two police cars screech around the corner and park in from of my house. I better get moving, I thought.

I traveled through the woods for a few days, stopping in small towns and convenience stores to grab some food. Everything was pretty uneventful. That is, until I met her.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and I knew I’d have to spend some time with her. I was far enough away from home at this point that I could take a short break. Why would the cops ever think to look here?

I talked to her for a bit in the store, and she told me about her pottery-making business that she ran out of her home. I asked if I could come take a look, and she agreed.

Her home was set up Japanese-style. It was one story, and there weren’t real doors or walls in between the rooms; just thin screens and bamboo. I followed her around, looking at her pottery for a while, and then walked into a spare bedroom. “You know,” I began. “I’m looking for a place to stay for a few days. I’m on a cross-country trip, and could really use a short rest. Do you think I could with you?” My appeal must have been strong; she agreed.

That night, I was about to get into bed when the maid came into my room. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “This is my room?”

I was confused. “Oh, I’m sorry. She told me I could stay in this room.”

The maid was annoyed. “Fine, well I’m sleeping in here anyway. We can share the bed.” That was fine with me. It was better than sleeping on the ground, anyway.

We were about to turn off the light and sleep when the butler came in. As soon as he saw me, he started roaring. “What are you doing! You’re cheating on me?” I guess he and maid had a thing going on. “I knew I should have never trusted you! Now you’re going to get it!” He pulled out a gun, shot the maid and then shot himself.

“What’s going on?” the woman asked, walking back into the room. “Oh…my…God!” She was horrified. I tried to calm her down, explaining that I didn’t do it; he killed himself. Still, she was upset and called the cops.

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